


allow the hope

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 01:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8691934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: we know this world is good enough because it has to be





	

**Author's Note:**

> I guess there was some concern I'd died, but tbh it was Thanksgiving and my girlfriend was visiting. Also I've been working on my fills for December, so just give me a couple days and then I will post every day for a month.
> 
> In the meantime, here's some canon fic. Please listen to [this song](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=h9NMnPm5kXc).

The first thing Bellamy does once the new settlement is built is jump in the lake. 

If there's one thing he loves about the Earth, loves unreservedly and joyfully, without complication, without anxiety, without second-guessing himself, it's _water_. Not that they didn't have water on the Ark, of course, but there was nothing like the quantity of it, the variety. Bellamy loves the ocean, loves the rain, loves rivers and streams and lakes. He loves the feeling of being submerged, of being soaked. He loves coming up for air and seeing the sky above him, of floating under the stars.

So when they struck out on their own, he made sure they settled by somewhere he could really _swim_. Monty prioritized agriculture, Raven cared about minerals and resources, and they all bickered about defense, but he wanted a lake.

Clarke wanted somewhere she could see the sun rise and set, and stayed quiet, aside from that.

If there's one thing that's been bothering him recently, it's Clarke being quiet. It feels like some great mystery, her silence. It was his idea, to take everyone who wanted to go and leaving, once Arkadia was set, even though she was clearly just as uncomfortable as he was. They couldn't even look at the halls without getting itchy, but he still would have stayed, if it it was just him. 

But it was nothing but bad memories for all of them, so they left. She agreed they should leave, but she followed him. He walked in front, and she walked right behind him, and that made him itch too. It makes him itch just thinking about it.

He's been in the water for maybe twenty minutes when Clarke says, "You look happy."

He's relaxed enough that the sound of her voice doesn't shatter it, even though he didnt hear her coming. He's on his back, eyes closed, drifting, and it's just nice. Uncomplicated.

"We don't even know if anything lives in there yet," she adds, but her voice is teasing.

"If it does, it can eat me first," he says. "And then you'll know." But he feels invincible. "The water's nice," he can't help telling her. It probably comes out hopeful.

"Maybe if you don't get eaten."

"How are they doing?" he asks.

"You've been gone for twenty minutes. What do you think is going to happen?"

"Moonshine, for a start."

There's a pause, and he can hear her shifting. He's not so far from shore. If something is in the water, he thinks he'll survive it. He can move quickly enough.

"I don't think anyone really wants to drink much right now," she admits. "Too many sad drunks."

"I remember you being the life of the party."

She huffs a laugh. "I don't think that's how you remember it."

He remembers a spark in his stomach, and the curve of her smile. He remembers feeling like he had something that was _his_. Not her, not really, but--he was the person she came to. First when she was enjoying herself, and then when she needed something.

That's what startles him off his back, regaining his feet so he can look at her.

She's sitting on a rock, smiling a little, watching him.

Six months later, and she's still coming to him. She has been since she came back.

"What?" she asks.

"You're really missing out on the water," he says, and she looks away.

"It's not going anywhere, right?"

"No. I guess not."

*

It's not like it was before. The world feels smaller now, more contained. Even if they don't have much contact with the Grounders or the rest of the Ark, they know about them. Bellamy knows exactly how far they can go before they hit someone else's territory, where they can hunt without causing problems, where they can farm.

But this land also feels like _theirs_. It's claimed and staked out. No one else needs it, and they're ready to fight for it, but they might not even have to. Everyone accepts that they deserve a place of their own.

Bellamy's never felt safe in a place before. Not growing up, with O in the floor and every visitor a danger. Not with the flimsy wall outside the dropship, not with a tent over his head.

Not without Clarke.

It's edging into summer, and everything is warm and hazy. They have crops going, and Miller has started catching animals, working on domestication. Mostly, he gets bitten a lot, and Clarke tells him he's going to catch something and die, and he tells her she'll thank him when they have deer to ride.

When he catches himself smiling, he doesn't always examine it. He doesn't always feel guilty. He just makes a note of it and moves on.

A lot of the time, he's helping Monty. He likes soil too, in a way he didn't expect. There's something about the first green shoots that feels like magic. He can't believe something he put in the ground _survived_.

"It's like you didn't raise a kid under the floor for sixteen years," Clarke says, but she looks just as amazed by their first crops as he is. "We all know you can take care of things, Bellamy."

"I didn't know I could grow things," he says, and Clarke sobers at that. It's different; she has to get that.

"Well," she says. "You can. What next?"

*

Harper's the first to domesticate an animal, much to Miller's consternation.

"I didn't do anything special," she tells him. She can't quite keep the smugness out of her voice. "She was hurt, and I helped her. Anyone could have done it."

"But you didn't," Jasper tells Miller, and Miller cuffs him.

The dog doesn't provide milk or meat, which Miller points out to anyone who will listen, but she helps with hunting, and she's just nice to have around. She favors Harper, but she's indiscriminate with her affection, happy to follow anyone around when she thinks there's a chance of food or someone to rub her ears.

She likes swimming, which means she likes Bellamy, kind of by default.

"You know, it's been three months," he tells Clarke. "If something was going to eat me, it would have done it by now."

She always watches him from the shore, but except to clean herself off, she doesn't get in the water. It's a shame; Clarke needs to relax more than anyone he's ever met.

"That's probably what it wants you to think."

"The water's nice."

She shifts, awkward, like she always does when he tries to get her in the lake. Finally, she says, "I nearly drowned."

"How?" he asks. He knows when it would have had to be; there's no point asking that.

She gives him a wry smile. "How does anyone nearly drown? I slipped."

"I never thought of that."

"Slipping?"

He stretches out on his back, letting himself drift. The sun is bright and the water is warm; a perfect day. "I thought I figured out every possible way you could die."

The silence feels safe, and he smiles when she says, "And you didn't think of drowning? It's so obvious."

He snorts. "I thought even you couldn't slip on a rock and die."

"And you were right. I didn't."

He closes his eyes, breathes for a second. She didn't. She's here. 

"Good for you," he says. "Glad I didn't give you too much credit."

There's a strangeness to her voice that makes his heart ache. "No. Not too much."

*

He doesn't realize how little time he's spent away from her since they came to the new settlement until she leaves. Even if she's been shying away from leadership duties, she can't avoid the influence she had; Azgeda requested a meeting, and they requested _her_ , by name.

"Roan probably just wants to be a dick at me," she grumbles.

"He probably wants to be a dick at both of us," Bellamy says. "But we can only spare you. Don't send him my regards."

"For a leader, you suck at diplomacy."

"It's not like he'd believe you anyway." He swallows past a lump in his throat. "Be careful, okay?"

To his surprise, she doesn't make a joke of it. Instead, she leans up and presses her lips against his cheek. "I will be. We'll see you tonight."

It's a shitty day. He can't concentrate on anything, he's irritable, and all he wants is to go after Clarke.

"No one would have minded if you went with her," Monty says. They're in the fields, checking on the crops, because he has to do _something_. It's at least low effort. "I know you think we can't handle things on our own, but you're useless without Clarke."

"Thanks."

"Not in a bad way." Monty shrugs. "You two work better together. And I'd be a wreck too, if I were you." He leans down, pulls a weed out and throws it aside, not making eye contact. "This is what we fought for, you know. Not--we can take care of ourselves. We fought to be together. We all knew we were fighting for the two of you."

He looks down at the soil, can't speak for a minute. "You trying to take motivational speeches from me?" he asks. "Because that's my thing."

"Well, you're gardening. So I guess we're all branching out."

He's not swimming when she gets back, just sitting on her favorite rock by the side of the lake, practicing skipping stones. The sun is setting, lighting the water all gold and orange and purple, and when Clarke rests her head on his shoulder, he's not sure he's ever felt so happy.

"How did it go?"

"Roan missed you."

"I missed him too." The stone skips once, twice, three times, and then falls into the water. "I should come next time."

"You should," she says, and picks up a stone. "Show me how to do that."

*

It wasn't hard to fall in love with Clarke. It was harder to not, to protect himself and Octavia over a hundred other kids, to rank his own interests over everything. It wasn't until he came to Earth that he realized how simple his life was on the Ark. It was _hard_ , of course, a weight on his shoulders that never lifted, never eased, but it wasn't complicated.

It was easy to think only of his sister and himself, when he didn't have anyone else. And then he came to Earth, and suddenly he had his own people.

Suddenly, he had Clarke, fighting to protect people just as hard as he did, and even when she left, he couldn't convince himself she didn't care about them just as much as he did.

Love like theirs is a burden. He knows how it is, to need a break. If he'd known how, he probably would have taken one himself.

So he loves Clarke like no one else in the world, but it's easy. And it's enough, honestly. As long as she doesn't leave again.

That's all he needs.

*

"Have you heard from your mom at all?"

They're out gathering herbs, the kind of thing leaders don't necessarily do, but they don't have many duties at the camp, don't really have a lot to do. When there are tough decisions, they'll help make them. But they're in good shape, for the moment.

He's not even sure Clarke still considers herself a leader, but that doesn't worry him. If they need leaders, she'll be back. She doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut when she thinks he's wrong, and he hopes she never learns.

"You'd know if I had," she says. "Have you heard from your sister?"

"Not since she stopped by to see the camp. She said she'd trade once we had more crops."

She worries her lip. "Do you want her to come back?"

"Yeah. But I want her to want to come back." He can't look at her. "I thought you were going to leave again after the reactors. I didn't think you'd come with us."

She sounds confused, not offended. "Why not?"

"You came back because you had something you needed from us. Things you needed to do. I had no idea if you wanted to stay."

She wraps her arms around his bicep, this quick, strange hug, and then lets go before he can react.

"I never want to leave," she says, and he lets himself believe it.

"Do you want your mom to come out?"

"I want her to visit sometimes. But no. I don't want to live with them. This is good."

It's not even hard to believe that. "Yeah," he agrees. "It is."

*

"What are you going to do when it gets too cold to swim?" 

"Freeze," he says, and Clarke smiles, but doesn't laugh.

"You know, I didn't know you liked water this much."

"I didn't either. I was too busy to appreciate it, until you left."

"So when I was gone, I nearly drowned and you started swimming."

"Basically, yeah." He flops on his back and lets himself drift for a minute, and then he takes a breath and says, "You wouldn't drown here."

"I didn't drown the last time, remember?"

"That was luck."

"And it wouldn't be this time?"

"No. I'm here. If you slip, I'll catch you."

She doesn't respond, and he can't quite breathe until he hears the rustle of fabric, and then the soft splash of a foot in the water. He counts to ten and then slides off his back onto his feet to look at her.

Somehow, he hadn't put together the rustle of fabric with her being mostly undressed, so it's a shock to see her, bare skin pebbling a little in the early autumn air, hair spilling over shoulders, arms crossed right beneath her breasts.

When she gets to him, she taps his chin, pulling his attention up.

"You're staring," she says, sounding amused. "Was this why you wanted me to come swimming?"

"No." He hesitates, works his jaw, but she's _smiling_. She's smiling, and the only time they're apart now is at night and when they're working, and if they could _not_ be apart at night, he'd be happy. "If I'd thought of this, I would have tried to convince you sooner."

Her laugh is soft, and she looks down at the water like she's embarrassed of it. "I'm glad you don't just want me naked."

"Not just," he says, and when his own fingers touch her chin, she looks up again, her smile as bright as anything.

"Not just," she agrees, and she's the one who closes the distance. It feels inevitable, as soon as it happens, the first slide of her mouth against his, the press of her body, the way her hand instantly tangles in his hair, like she's been waiting for that.

How could he have ever thought he'd die without kissing Clarke Griffin? How did he _not_ die? How could they possibly have survived to get this moment: a tranquil lake, the warm sun, and her in his arms? It's as incomprehensible that it's happening as it would have been if it didn't happen.

His own hands find her hips in the water, fingers greedy for skin, and she makes a contented sound against his mouth.

Then her foot slips and she loses her balance. His grip tightens, holding her up, pulling her close, and this time her laugh is bright, clear. It's the most perfect thing he's ever heard.

"Just checking," she says, and he laughs too.

"That was an easy one," he says. "I was already holding you."

"Yeah." She rests her head against his chest, and he kisses her hair, soaking in the contact. "You always are."

*

Bellamy knew they were coming up on a year on the ground, but he hadn't kept good enough track of it to know the exact date. Which he would have regretted, if Raven and Monty didn't have a calendar with the date marked. They spend the better part of two weeks preparing a feast, a real one, with more food than they can actually eat. They don't invite the rest of the Ark--that can wait for Unity Day--but Miller and Harper track down Octavia and get her to come back, and it's almost perfect. The kind of night he knows he'll remember for the rest of his life, with everyone he loves together and happy and laughing.

He still finds himself slipping away to sit by the water, to stare at the reflection of the moon in the lake. He's close enough that he can still hear them, but he doesn't know how to be there. He's never been good at that. He's the person you find for a crisis, not for a celebration.

It only takes three minutes for Clarke to join him.

"You could have stayed," he says. "You were kicking ass at that game."

"I could have," she says, and nudges his arm. He lifts it, and she settles in against his side. She smells like alcohol and wood smoke, and he loves her. "I'd rather come with you. Everything okay?"

"Yeah. You know me, I'm bad at parties."

"You are." She kisses his shoulder. "One year."

"One year," he agrees. "Could have been worse."

She laughs. "It was pretty good, by the end." Her hand finds his, and she tangles their fingers together. Her skin is still soft, and it feels like a miracle every time. He can't believe they still have any delicate parts left.

"I bet we can do better."

"Yeah?" he asks, and leans his head against hers. The moon is bright and almost full, and the water is calm. His people are safe, and happy. No one's died in months, and no one shows any signs of dying any time soon. Winter might be hard, but they're ready for it. He's excited to see if the lake freezes over, if they can skate, or just slide around and fall over.

Clarke's not going anywhere, and Octavia said she might come back, when the snow starts.

"I think we can try," she says, so soft he almost doesn't hear her.

"Yeah, we might as well." He squeezes her shoulders. "It's not like we're doing anything else."


End file.
